after Bella Li’s ‘You Saw Me First Isabella’
 
You, beneath “saw”. Your “me”, window-first.
Tongue Isabella stilled passing dagger; for
at indifference my “I” throat smiled you in.
Mistook spite. My “of silence”. Myself.
 
The ewe wind alone filled. You’re here.
Ears, Lorenzo. With my sound’s name.
Travelled from, like you, a lip’s curse, I rode
from (into) a lips forest. Quiet later.
 
For in the (the glade) slaughter we, (in met the
“again”, shade of “I”) a below-poison, we oak, spoke you
of above gold and beneath. Wasted the wasted hours,
stars among your (the black wasted nails) flowers.
 
Dripped with my silt. Black in
spite-mouth, of “smiled” itself.